


Rules of Engagement

by TheMulletWhisperer



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Ambush, Battle, Combat, Gen, Non-Explicit Sex, Plans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:53:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6981394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMulletWhisperer/pseuds/TheMulletWhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Thalmor have become far too complacent in their Embassy security, so Galina teaches them a little lesson to keep them on their toes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules of Engagement

**Author's Note:**

> Rulindil belongs to @Imdex!

Pine needles scratched at Galina’s face as she crouched in the tree, overlooking the road to the Thalmor embassy. From somewhere in the distance, she could hear the hooves of the horses falling against the cobblestones of the road. Lucky for her, the Thalmor felt far too secure in their embassy to place any guards on the roads. A dire mistake they, and their caravaneers, were about to pay for. 

In spite of the biting cold winds stinging her mostly-exposed face, she remained steeled for the upcoming battle, which was now well within sight.

The caravan seemed well guarded, with several Justiciars and Wizards walking alongside it, as well as their commander in the driver’s seat. In total, she counted seven targets. More worrying, however, was the state of the carriage itself. Ever since she’d taken out the first prison escort, they seemed to have upped their security, as the back of the cart looked much harder to get into. 

_ Rule 1: Improvisation is Key _

As the driver came just under her branch, she jumped down in a flurry of black, her barbed blade driving straight into his neck. With a push, he fell off the cart and became trapped underneath one of the wheels. One down, six to go. The rest took notice of their dead comrade.

Instead of hopping to the ground, Galina retreated further up onto the cart, keeping an eye on all sides of it. With their heavier plate, the Thalmor would take longer to reach her, allowing for more time to prepare.

The first pair of hands appeared over the edge of the cart, followed by a head. Bad move. She brought her shortsword down and buried it right in her neck, dangling over the edge by her neck.  _ Five _ . An Elven sword appeared just between her arm and her waist.  _ Focus, Galina _ .

She spun around on her heel, sweeping a foot and bringing the mer down to a prone position on top of the cart. Lifting a foot, she brought it down on the back of his head several times. The wood began to crack and bloody.  _ Four _ .

Lightning whizzed past her head, a Wizard had come up swinging--or casting, as it were. The next bolt necessitated her performing a leaping windmill kick over it, making contact with his face and staggering him. Galina grabbed his collar and threw him towards the horse, which did exactly as she’d hoped. Startled, it kicked its back leg out and smashed the wizard against the cart. A sickening crack.  _ Three _ .

Around her was empty, the two on the ground seemed to be waiting for something. A sharp pain in her arm, blood. Dagger. She couldn’t see him. Keeping her swords at the ready, she listened closely. Right side, movement. At just the right time, she flung her arm out, parrying the attack and grabbing the would-be assassins’ arm, throwing him to the ground and driving the pommel of her blade into his face. The wood shattered under his head and he fell into the cart with the prisoners.  _ Two _ .

Both of the remaining Justiciars climbed up onto the cart brandishing maces, aiming to sandwich her between them.  _ Move, Galina. _ Her feet moved two steps to the right and the bludgeoned each-other, their maces getting caught in the crooks of one-another’s armor.  _ Shock _ . Galina placed a hand on the rightmost soldier’s arm, channeling a lightning spell into him. It carried through the mace to the other, both convulsing before falling down in a smoking, twitching heap.  _ Zero _ .

By now the prisoners were clambering out of the hole in the top of the caravan, each thanking Galina profusely before cutting their bindings on the barbs of the Justiciars’ maces, hopping down, and running off. 

Time for part two.

=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=

It took an hour, but the Residuum cart arrived, carrying several barrels smelling of kindlepitch. With the help of the soldiers, the doors in the back of the cart were pried open and the barrels loaded in. Once everything was prepared, the door was secured and the Imperials left the cart behind, simply taking the horse and leaving.

_ Horse _ .

Galina walked around the front of caravan, looking the horse over. Several scars and a brand. Either abused or seen several battles, regardless, it was strong. Maybe she’d keep it. 

_ Rule 2: Utilize Enemy Resources _

Galina mounted the horse, the fuse in the back of the cart lit. She could see the Embassy, but she didn’t have much time. With a crack of the reigns, she, the horse, and the cart began practically speeding towards the wrought iron fence. The sound of the fuse burning was akin to a ticking clock, with mere seconds determining her life or death. 

Flat ground, mere feet to the gate. Galina cut the harness connecting the horse to the cart and veered off to the side, watching from a semi-safe distance as the cart rammed into the gate and exploded in a grand display of blue flame, decimating the walls around.

Dismounting the horse, the Nord ran for the massive window of opportunity, leaping over the mass of rubble and scorched Thalmor corpses and heading up the stairs to the door. With a booted foot, she kicked it in, practically off the hinges.

First response security team, heavily armored, greatswords. Four of them. Easy kills.

_ Rule 3: Fast Beats Strong _

Galina ran right for the armored colossi, brandishing, as always, her blades. They were slow. She drove her shortsword into the knee of the vanguard, bringing him to the ground. A barbed blade to the neck finished him off.  _ Three _ .

A greatsword flew over her head, knocking out a good chunk of the masonry of the wall. She swung her barbed blade upwards, severing his arm at the elbow and sending him crashing into the bar.  _ Two _ .

The Nord leapt up, out of the Altmer’s field of vision, and came down to sit on his shoulders. She slid her shortsword right through his visor.  _ One. _

From her perch, she once again launched into the air, slicing the final guard’s throat with a flick of her wrist.  _ Zero. _

Stepping over the dead guardsmen, she navigated her way behind the bar and moved through the wine room and into the kitchen. All she saw there were...two Khajiit going at it on the far table. The room smelled of moon sugar. Nothing to see here, she moved onwards. 

The adjourning hallway was suspiciously vacant, so she kept her guard up. Nothing. Silence.

Each corner turned was tense, but there was nobody to be found inside. 

It clicked. They were pulling back to defend. The courtyard. Galina ran up the stairs and for one of the doors, stepping out back into the cold, standing on a balcony over dozens of Thalmor. 

_ Rule Four: Know Thy Enemy _

Galina hopped over the railing, slashing the tendon in the leg of a nearby Justiciar and sending him to the ground.  _ Too many to count _ . She blocked a strike to her neck, pushing her blade through the Justiciar’s gut. 

_ Too many _ .

Her face began bleeding and she felt her arm go numb.

_ I’m sorry Arkved _ .

She felt a burning sensation just before her vision went black.

=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=

_ Dead...dead. Not dead. I’m waking up _ .

Galina forcefully peeled her eyes open, looking around the room. She was in a cell. Around her was the smell of blood and sweat, and the sound of movement. In her cell were several dead Altmer. Must’ve been the most recent delivered batch.

Her internal questions were answered when Rulindil appeared in front of the cell--a face she knew all too well. “Ah...what do we have here? I seem to recall you, human.” The interrogator spat the last word as if it were venom. 

“Yeah, I remember you too. I got a real nice view of your ass last time, but c’mon, turn around, let’s see that pretty face.”

He seemed slightly angered at this, pulling a key from his belt. “I would advise you not to continue your train of jokes.”

“Why? You gonna do something about it, or are you too pussy?”

That seemed to tear it, the interrogator clicked the lock and pushed into the cell.

What happened next was unexpected.

Galina tore her hands away from the shackles, kneeing him--once again--in the groin. It seems he couldn’t catch much of a break today. The Nord shoved him against the wall and locked his arms in the shackles, where she could tell he was trying to rant, but words evaded him.

Grabbing the key from the ground, she stepped out of the cell and slammed the door shut, making sure the lock clicked before she turned to the rest of the cells--rife with prisoners.

_ Rule 5: Always Have a Plan B _

=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=

To say Elenwen was unhappy was to say that the death of every merchant in Tamriel would be a minor detriment to Skyrim’s economy. However, this was...somewhat alleviated by the word received that the perpetrator had been captured. In the time it took her to arrive, Rulindil should well have figured out the motives for the attack. 

Carelessly, she stepped on and over the corpses of the dead soldiers, assessing the damage. The downed outer walls would necessitate a much more dense security detail until it’d been reconstructed. The embassy doors would have to be replaced, something had near knocked them off their hinges, and the damaged masonry inside would have to be repaired as well.

Otherwise, aside from a broken kitchen table, nothing seemed out-of-the-ordinary, aside from another couple of dead Justiciars outside. 

As she passed each soldier on her way to the interrogator, they saluted out of both fear and respect for the Ambassador. 

Elenwen marched down the stairway to the basement, opening up the door to...an eerie silence. Nothing, not even Rulindil in sight. Perhaps he was in the prisoner’s cell.

However, as she passed each cell, it was empty. Something was definitely wrong here. As she reached the last cell on the row, the open corpse chute caught her eye...as did the attacker’s

cell. The only thing in there was Rulindil, along with several dead Altmer.

“Emissary.” Elenwen’s voice was filled with cold anger, as her face reflected.

Rulindil’s head snapped up quickly and his eyes went wide, “I can explain!”

=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=

From above, Galina heard the Ambassador’s voice. Job well done. Sliding down over the outcrop and passing the dead troll, she squeezed through the passage out to the wilderness. And there she was faced with--

_ Horse. _

_ Rule 6: Sometimes, You Make New Friends _


End file.
